


Getting Back on the Horse

by Camelittle



Series: Convalescence [9]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Erotic Massage, Fluff, Horses, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, Masterful Arthur, Mild Angst, sneaky Merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 20:30:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3783400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Camelittle/pseuds/Camelittle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin and the others conspire to make Arthur's birthday truly memorable. But in the end, it's Arthur who ensures that the day will not be forgotten.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting Back on the Horse

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the final "Love" square on my [Merlin Writers Quickie Bingo](http://merlin-writers.livejournal.com/161477.html) card.

Arthur couldn’t believe that they’d been together for nearly a whole year.

When he was at school, the boys in his class vowed nurses were the best kind of lover. Because, allegedly, nurses were kinky and inventive, and knew a whole lot about anatomy. Well, he could certainly confirm the latter, although he wasn’t sure that Merlin was really the kind of nurse they’d been talking about.

But right now, while Arthur lay sprawled, limp and relaxed, across the bed, with Merlin’s long, inquisitive fingers probing the sore muscles in his lower back, and describing great circles around his buttocks, he really couldn’t bring himself to care. The scent of rosewood and geranium filled the air.

He groaned when Merlin hit a particularly tense spot. “God, yeah,” he said. “Right there, Merlin. That’s it.”

Merlin’s hands swept down Arthur’s left thigh and swirled across his calf before his thumb pressed into the arch of Arthur’s foot. “Remember the first time I gave you a foot massage?” he said, repeating the action on Arthur’s right.

“God, yeah. How could I forget? Thought I was going to make a mess on the bedsheets.”

“Would have served you right.” Arthur loved the way that Merlin applied just the right amount of pressure to make it stimulating rather than unbearably ticklish. “You were being a giant tease.”

“Mmm.” When the heat from Merlin’s hands was drawing out all Arthur’s tension, like that, he didn’t have the strength to argue. “S’ry.”

Merlin’s warmth lifted away for a second, and then was replaced, as he straddled Arthur’s thighs and lined up his whole body along Arthur’s back. And this, this was the best thing about the massages that Merlin gave him these days, because now Merlin was naked, and Arthur could feel that he was far from unaffected by the skin-to-skin contact.

“God, Arthur,” Merlin breathed as the flat of his palm described an arc across Arthur’s shoulders. “Look at you. You’re good enough to eat. God. And I’m hungry.”

Arthur moaned.

It wasn’t just Merlin’s hands now that worked Arthur’s muscles, their slow, delicious glide filling him with anticipation. Merlin used his whole body, from his tongue to the tips of his toes, licking and stroking and pummeling until Arthur was quite overwhelmed.

“Starving,” Merlin said, and Arthur could feel the warmth of his breath against the back of his neck, where it raised goose-bumps and made Arthur shiver.

Merlin’s fat tongue nudged against the furrow between Arthur’s shoulders, and drew a long, shaky line down the length of his spine, sliding coquettishly every further down until it was nearly where Arthur really wanted it, nearly, but not quite. His back arching from the sheer agonising thrill of it, Arthur made to draw up his legs, to remove the final resistance, but Merlin hissed out a protest, his breath a soft gust on Arthur’s tense buttocks. “Not yet,” he said. “Impatient, today, aren’t we?”

Arthur pictured Merlin’s eyes dancing with mischief, and let out a faint, frustrated whimper. But he waited, waited for agonising minutes while Merlin teased him open with fingers that were too gentle and a tongue that fell just short of perfect. When, at last, Merlin drew up Arthur’s hips so that he was crouching and all fours, and breached him with his tongue, insistent and probing, he cried out.

Bereft for a moment when Merlin pulled away, Arthur moaned helplessly into his pillow when he felt Merlin’s blunt cock nudge against his furl, all slick and ready.

Arthur had never thought that he would need this, that it could be like this, letting another man ease inside, then drive into him, making his responsibilities flee as he he was filled with long, careful strokes. But now--now he couldn’t imagine living without this, without Merlin wrapping around him and slipping into him in one smooth move, whispering sweet promises into Arthur’s ear as he caressed him with his hips and lips and teeth. Merlin chasing all the thoughts from his head until all there was left was the singular feeling of being joined together in every way, by their hips and their mouths and hands. Of being pressed down into the rolled-up towel under his hips, by the weight of Merlin’s love and his need. Of rutting helplessly into it, his buttocks tensing and relaxing in time with Merlin’s.

Their rhythm was slow at first, Merlin’s mouth finding first Arthur’s neck, then his lips, then his nape. Gradually he felt their tempo rise in time with his thumping heart, smooth and even, before moving to a stuttering, faltering crescendo. When Merlin cried out his name in a broken, trembling voice, all the breath left him in a giddy rush and his eyes fluttered closed. Bliss flooded through him in hot pulses until he, lay, spent and panting, with Merlin draped over him like a heavy mantle.

Stirring beneath him, Arthur managed to dislodge his lover, who rolled off and flopped onto the other side of the bed, offering his back, and, dragging Arthur’s arm with him as he went so that Arthur’s chest was lined up along it.

“I think you broke me,” Arthur said, softly, as he enfolded Merlin in his arms. He pressed his lips to Merlin’s sweaty nape, ignoring the mingled mess on their skin and on the bedclothes for a moment while their breathing slowed.

Merlin just hummed, holding Arthur’s free arm tight between both of his.

*

Their bubble couldn’t last forever. Eventually, Merlin sighed and peeled himself away from their warm cocoon, standing slowly and stretching, so that Arthur could see all the handprints on the back of his thighs and bite marks on his neck, the only parts of Merlin he’d been able to reach.

“Happy Birthday, Arthur,” Merlin said softly, his face overtaking by a breathtaking smile.

Arthur returned it. “Thanks,” he said. “I’ll be good for nothing for the rest of the day, though.”

Merlin shook his head, his eyes reduced to sly slits. “Nope, that’s not permitted.” Swiping the bedclothes off him, so that Arthur yelped and tried, too late, to grab them back, he bundled them up and tossed them on the floor. “You have guests coming in ten minutes - you need to get cleaned up!”

Arthur buried his face in the pillow for a moment, but even he couldn’t stay like that for too long. Acknowledging that he was probably smelling a little bit ripe, he sighed and rolled over to the edge of the bed, scowling at the way that Merlin was laughing at him. “What’s so funny?”

“Your hair is sticking up,” said Merlin, his eyes fond. “There’s no way that Lord Pendragon can greet his birthday guests looking like that. You practically have the word ‘debauched’ tattooed on your forehead.”

He was looking altogether too pleased with himself, so Arthur grabbed the sorely mistreated pillow and tossed it at him, but the bastard ducked, which was cheating. “Remind me why they’re getting here so early, Merlin?”

“It’s nearly ten o’clock, lazybones. Anyway, it’s a secret.”

“I’m not lazy. You broke me,” said Arthur, deadpanning. “You deliberately and systematically broke me. I know you did it on purpose, and you don’t look sorry at all.”

“Neither do you, to be honest,” said Merlin, grinning.

Arthur grinned back. It felt like his heart was swelling to twice its normal size. He really didn’t know what he’d done to get this lucky.

*

“Where are my jeans?” Arthur scrabbled around in the drawer.

“In the wash,” mumbled Merlin around his toothbrush.

Arthur frowned. There seemed to be nothing in his drawer today. Eventually he found an old pair of jodhpurs. “I’ve got no bloody trousers!”

“You must have worn them all.”

“I know I didn’t.” It was weird. He hadn’t worn his jeans that week. But just then the doorbell rang, and rather than going to answer it in his boxers or, the only alternative he could find in the wardrobe, his dinner suit, he dragged on the jodhpurs and an old polo shirt and opened the bedroom door.

“Wait for me!” called Merlin, wiping his mouth.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “I’m only answering the door!.”

They went together, Merlin crowding him in his haste to beat him there. The more he thought about it the more he thought something a bit strange was going on. He couldn’t help wondering why Gwen and Lance were coming round so early, or why Merlin was so eager to see them, even though he was completely infatuated with baby Gareth.

Merlin flung open the heavy oak door with a happy, beaming grin, letting warm, spring sunlight flood into the room. To Arthur’s surprise, it wasn’t just Gwen and Lance standing there; Morgana, Gwaine and Elena were on the steps too. The expression on Morgana’s face was one that he’d seen too many times and that filled him with foreboding. It was the “just you see what I’ve got in store for you, little brother” look.

“Surprise!” she said now, with that terrifying, knowing expression on her face that made him worry whether he’d got a smudge on his chin.

“Happy Birthday, Arthur, darling.” said Elena, stepping forward to peck at both his cheeks. “Merlin, dear, you look simply delicious. Doesn’t he, Gwaineypoos?” Ever since that barbecue, Gwaine and Elena had been nauseatingly inseparable, and prone to brazen public displays of affection and ridiculous terms of endearment. It was rather sweet, although Arthur would never admit it in public.

“Edible, Lenalollipop,” agreed Gwaine. “Here, mate, have some flowers.” He shoved a huge, ostentatious bouquet at Arthur, who took it dumbly.

“Happy Birthday, boss,” said Gwen, jiggling baby Gareth on her hip, dimples popping into her cheeks as she smiled. He’d missed her, over the last few months, competent though his temporary assistant was, and warmth stole through his limbs as he stepped forward to give her a hug, albeit gingerly, to avoid squashing the flowers. “Lance, would you have Gareth for a moment?.”

But baby Gareth, meanwhile ,had spotted Merlin by Arthur’s side, and was leaning away from Gwen and Lance, arms outstretched.

“How’s my best little fella then?” cooed Merlin, tucking his hands under Gareth's arms to lift him and rub their noses together. Gareth’s face lit up and he gurgled ecstatically, his tiny hand cupping Merlin’s face. "Ow!" added Merlin, smiling as Gareth tweaked his ear. 

“Looks like I’m redundant, today,” said Lance, shrugging.

“You can have him back when he needs a nappy change,” said Merlin, tucking Gareth onto his hip like a pro, and tickling him under his chin until he let out a delighted baby giggle.

“Thanks a bunch, mate!” said Lance, grinning. “I know my place.”

“Well, lovely though it is that you have all come and see me on my birthday,” said Arthur, “I can’t help wondering what you’re all up to. And where’s Leon?”

Morgana looked sly, which was definitely a bad sign. “Shh!” she said. “Listen.”

Everyone fell silent for a moment. Arthur thought he could hear footsteps on the gravel. But irregular ones, da-Duh, da-Duh, as if someone was impersonating a horse.

Or, of course, as if it was an actual horse.

As they all stood, listening, Leon himself hove into view, leading a magnificent chestnut mare. She must have been at least sixteen hands, thoroughbred, keen-eyed and beautifully turned out in Pendragon livery. As they drew closer Arthur realised that his favourite saddle was on her back.

“Hi Arthur,” said Leon. “Let me introduce you to Llamrei. Sired by Betelgeuse, her dam was Constanza - from the Mercia stables.” He rubbed her chin and she nuzzled at his ear.

“I… We thought you might want to give her a ride today,” said Merlin, still holding tightly onto Gareth.

Expectant faces turned to his, all of them filled with anticipation and hope.

He was well, now, he knew that, although his riding muscles hadn’t been used for a while.

Handing the flowers back to Elena, he stepped forward and patted Llamrei’s neck, making low, soothing noises. Her ears pricked and she shuffled her feet a little, but then as he rubbed her flank she let out a low, contented nicker.

She was absolutely perfect.

When he looked up, his gaze found Leon’s, calm and full of understanding.

“She’s yours, Arthur,” said Leon. “I chose her myself.”

Arthur nodded. He still had several horses, of course, but he hadn’t ridden any of them since the accident, and he realised the significance of what Leon was saying. It was time.

He spent a few minutes tightening straps and stirrups, and then, taking his helmet from Leon, and jamming it firmly onto his head, he swung up onto Llamrei’s back, tightened her reins and tapped her flank. "Walk on." 

The estate had always looked at its best from horseback, and Arthur hadn’t realised how much he’d missed this feeling, just him and his horse, as he gentled Llamrei into a rising trot along the driveway and then along the avenue towards the quiet grove of trees where they’d scattered Uther’s ashes amid a cloud of bluebells and celandines.

Llamrei was skittish at first; she had a sensitive mouth, and didn’t take kindly to being told what to do, but after a few minutes he felt her relax under his seat, and they began to get used to one another. Circling back towards the house, he guided her into a rolling canter before drawing up near the still-waiting party on the steps, exhilaration pumping through his veins and making his face warm and his heart feel light. He wanted to laugh out loud. 

All the people he loved were here. One that he loved most of all stood there, his unruly hair partly tamed for once, soft eyes shining with frank admiration and joy like a beacon. Not for the first time, Arthur wondered what he’d done to deserve him.

Filled with a sense of purpose, Arthur slid down off Llamrei’s back. Handing her reins back to the waiting Leon, he strode up the steps and grabbed a surprised Gareth out of Merlin’s arms, plonking him firmly back into his waiting father’s grasp, before grabbing Merlin by the hand.

“Merlin Emrys,” he said, “I have no doubt that this was all your idea. The jodhpurs should have been a give-away.” Merlin snorted, but looked smug, so he knew he was right.

“God, I love you to distraction, you soft-hearted idiot,” Arthur added, sinking down onto one knee. “Merlin, will you do the honour of becoming my husband?”

Merlin adopted his startled-rabbit expression--which Arthur secretly found completely adorable--and his face flooded with colour.

“What? Of course I will,” he said, sounding a little choked. “There’s no need to be such a prat about it!”

In the background he could hear high-pitched squealing noises, but Merlin was just staring down at him, all misty-eyed, and Arthur felt his chest swell in delight.

“In that case…” Dropping his riding crop, Arthur surged to his feet, bundling a surprised, squawking Merlin over one shoulder, before striding across the threshold. Merlin was heavier than he looked, especially when wriggling, and yelling out “put me down, you brute!” in a high-pitched falsetto, but Arthur’s strength had returned. Besides which, he could tell that Merlin’s protests were half-hearted, and the way that Merlin was clinging on to him even while he struggled showed that it was all for show.

When he reached the bedroom door he turned, grinning. “You know where the kitchen is,” he called out to his catcalling, cheering guests, who were crowding into the dim, mahogany-lined hallway. “Help yourselves to tea and coffee. We might be a while.”

He pushed open the door to his bedroom with his free hand, and slammed it closed with his heel.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: not my characters, I'm not getting paid.


End file.
